About Our Enemies

 Dear Family in Faith,

When I was a child I remember asking my mother, “Who are our enemies?”  We lived in southeastern Kentucky; we often were aware of the evening news; I distinctly remember the “watch parties” for the 1976 Winter Olympic games.  And I was asking so I could know precisely who I should hate. 

My mother, the preacher’s wife, who had grown up in a religiously Lutheran household, whose faith was firm, who seemed to know the struggles of life—including living through the daily realities of Vietnam and by that time the Cold War—seemed to squirm.  As I pressed, and she seemingly was mulling over all her worldly options, she eventually blurted, “Well, maybe the Russians, I guess!” 

So, if the Russians were to be our enemies, we should at least beat them at ice hockey!  And …figure skating …and bobsledding …and whatever else!  Right?

Even as a child, a younger child, I wasn’t going to *hate* the Russians.  It wasn’t because I totally believed Jesus and always followed his instructions to “love my neighbor” and “pray for my enemy.”  Nope.  I wasn’t doing that.  It’s probably, that my most ardent prayer then until now, has always been “for peace on earth.” 

But …I’m not shaped by peace.  Like any young boy, despite not growing up around weapons, I’ve been shaped by dreaming of battles and wars, fighting and bravery, and blowing up enemy weapons and bunkers.  I love John Wayne movies.  I like seeing the bad guys getting what’s coming to them.  I’ll take almost any Clint Eastwood movie before I’ll consider watching the Disney channel.  Yet even in all the glorious victories of war—I also see the agonies of defeat. 

War and violence are not easy.  Though we talk about pinpoint accuracy and surgical airstrikes—the dangers to our bodies and souls are more than bullets, artillery, tanks, and aircraft.  Talk to any brave drone pilots, who deliver weapons from half-a-world away, with a coffee cup and a lunch break, in non-descript office buildings; not to mention those who are sent for live action.  There are times that require brave and honorable action of the highest order because there are always realities of the worst order.  But even for our enemies, it’s always someone’s son or daughter in harms way—even for the very best of reasons and intentions.  

And, like other times, in the images of the violence that unfolded last week in Ukraine, I struggled mightily between my heartfelt desire for “peace on earth” and what seems at the same time, the necessity of taking up arms.  I sat in the crosshairs of daring to believe in Jesus’ love for neighbor being made manifest and my readiness for someone to give the order to put troops on the ground.  And the daring willingness to risk everything for the cause of peace, even war. 

The love of Jesus doesn’t release us from that passion or consequence.  I just hope and believe that our passion for life and love means we take the steps of faith daily, and often, so that peace always has a chance—before, during, and after, what we feel compelled to do in the name of righteousness and for justice and ultimately, for love itself.  And I don’t ever doubt that God is with us in the midst of the messiness of our feelings, of our loves and desires, of life itself, and even when violence is chosen. 

Jesus doesn’t lay down in front of violence.  Jesus doesn’t give in either.  He even dies by violence, so that violence may also be defeated. 

…I think I wanted to know who our enemies were, because I knew at some point, enemies have to become friends. 

…I think that enemies are enemies; but we can become friends—and that changes the world!  And Jesus has a hand in that, too.  He helps us get through the messiness between us, and helps us see it’s clearly more fun being friends! 

…And friends: can build what was broken, and mend what gets knocked down, and can see the world from a better place known as restoration, or resurrection, or wholeness—instead of broken promises and broken realities. 

Hope, even on the tip of a spear?  I believe that too, if for nothing else, Jesus dies on the cross—a public execution, a war-time sign, with the promise of better days are coming.  If death is near, resurrection is not far.  And we don’t know which one or what moments those might be until we see them and choose them for ourselves.  And with God’s help. 

In some of the darkest worst days of the first World War, soldiers paused and sang to one another on Christmas.  It was a start.  Jesus loves us.  Because he does, enemies become friends and we change the world.  We believe all is not lost, that we can all be parts of a solution, and the gathering of joy, and love.  …I’m not shaped by peace, but I believe in it.  I think you do, too.  ”See you” in Church.